Sometimes
by SurroundingShadows
Summary: Dean didn't like it, not one bit. But he was selfish enough to ignore it, until it was too late. One-shot -drabble?- T for Language. Implied maleXmale relationship and Char Death.


**Hey! So this has been in a notebook somewhere for a while now, and a story I read recently made me dig it back up and type it. I can't remember what the story was, but if I find it again I'll tell you, 'kay? It was really good, a WIP, though. **

**A/N: Um, crossover that I have no idea why I wrote. Only maybe one or two SPN spoilers? Rated T for a few bad words. So, sorry about that. Not beta'd- only spell-check and me reading through it a bit, so I can almost promise there will be spelling and grammar mistakes. Tell me if you find any, yeah? **

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Sometimes, Dean wished he had stayed in Hell. Other times he wished he let Sam stay dead. He felt terrible after the thought, but truly believed it at times. It would have made things so much _easier _for Dean. Caught between the two people he had left was the most difficult thing he ever had to live through. Something he didn't _want_ to live through.

Sam. Sammy, his _baby brother_. The one he protected at all costs. The one he practically raised. He would— _did_— die for him. One of the most important people in his life. Almost his whole _world_ growing up.

Then there was Harry. _Harry_. His one and only friend he could have— could ever _want._ He was so much like Dean yet so different it was almost scary at times. They liked the same types of music, food, clothing, and movies; they could even finish each other's sentences half of the time! Yet, they weren't so alike that they would get bored from talking about the same things over and over again. Harry, the one that went through so much _shit_ growing up that his own childhood paled in comparison. The one who trusted Dean enough to take care of him, even after always having to take care of himself and others growing up. Dean was the only one he trusted enough for that.

Harry told him everything. Told him all about his life and all the situations he was thrust into. Told him more than he even told Sam— his own _boyfriend._ Harry knew Dean wouldn't pity him like Sam would, like he didn't need.

But Sammy— Sammy meant the world to him, also. He loved both Sammy and Harry— always would. He just couldn't _choose_. He didn't want to lose either his brother or best friend. So he let it continue. He saw the fights, they argued over almost everything these days. They tried not to fight in front of him, but he still knew. Even when they sometimes got their own room, he could still hear the yelling and crashes that followed.

He tried to pretend it wasn't as bad as it was. I mean, what couple doesn't fight? But now, he didn't know how much longer he could do this. The bruises were getting worst, the fighting escalating over the most mundane topics. Harry was sinking more and more into himself, becoming more quiet and flinching away from any type of human contact. That's when Sam stopped being Sammy to him.

Harry was even withdrawing from him, _him_. The one who promised to always protect Harry. He saw the looks Sam threw the two of them when Harry showed as much as a smile to Dean, and he started to hate his brother as much as he loved him.

Hated him for drinking demon blood; hated him for cheating on Harry with that demon bitch. He even hated Harry at times. For not stopping Sam from doing all he did. For continuing to still live— and put up— with Sam after all the shit Sam put him through. But mainly— he hated himself the most; for leaving, which pushed Sam to do all of those things. For leaving Harry behind to deal with everything— breaking his promise to always protect his little raven-haired friend.

Then one day it ended. No more fights, no more bruises and fractured bones. No more of him having to choose between his brother and his best friend who was closer to him than anyone. The choice was made for him.

Harry ended it.

By ending his life.

Something he promised he would never try again.

There was only a single line on his note, a single line that caused Dean more pain than even forty years in Hell could ever wish too.

_I'm so sorry Dean, I tried- I swear I did. Thank you, for everything. I love you. _

Sometimes Dean wished he stayed in Hell, because then he would be with Harry.

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**I won't ask for reviews but they _are_ greatly appreciated. :3 **

**So I've noticed a lot of my one-shot/drabbles tend to start and end with the same sentence, and honestly don't know why I do that... heh... o.o;;**

**Also, I don't know if it's fitting or kinda weird, but the actual story/drabble/one-shot- _whatever_- was six hundred and sixty-six words. **


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